


Late Night Fight

by trycatpennies



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Divorce, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trycatpennies/pseuds/trycatpennies





	Late Night Fight

The first fight isn't really a fight at all.

Kris leaves the stage and feels like this is what people must say seeing red feels like. Except he's so fucking pissed he can't really see anything at all.

He's into so much tunnel vision that he body checks a PA and barrels through Allison on his way back to the green room, and barely manages to get it together for his quickchange and his way back to the stage for his solo.

When Alison goes home the next day, he's sure he's never been this angry. Ever.

It's not that Gokey can't sing, the dude is great, whatever. But fuck. Kris has never really met anyone who has managed to get under his skin like that. He doesn't think he deserves to be here more than Danny, but he knows that Allison sure as hell does.

That's what really gets him. That someone with Allison's talent could get beat out by Danny. And he can't really blame Danny, and he can't blame the judges, he can only blame millions of anonymous voters, and dammit, that's just frustrating and futile.

He spends two days stomping around the house. He spends two days slamming cupboard doors, ignoring calls from his wife and turning up his music whenever Danny got within three yards of him. And it takes two days for Danny to finally call him on it.

"Who pissed in your cereal, Allen?"

Kris punches him.

The three boys are in the kitchen, getting the dinner the chef left and it's just too much, all that at once, all the rage and the tension and nervousness and fear and he just loses it, and Kris takes a swing.

Danny looks at him in amazement, flushed, his mouth gaping.

"You punched me in the ear!" Danny clutches the side of his head with both hands. Kris is shaking out his own hand, and his eyes are dark, and he's still angry, and punching Danny didn't fucking help at all. Adam's standing three feet away, his eyes wide, watching Kris and Danny, surprise all over his face.

"Sorry, man," Kris spits, and Adam actually jerks back, there's more venom there than he's ever heard Kris use. Adam takes a step forward, worried. "I was aiming for your face."

"You missed!" Danny says, still too surprised to be angry, and the comment isn't even mocking, just a statement of fact.

"Yeah? Wanna do-over?" Kris starts towards Gokey, and Adam steps in, one long stride putting him between Kris and Danny and he grabs Kris' arm.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Adam says, and he grips Kris' arm, facing him levelly. He looks over his shoulder at Danny and when he speaks his voice is firm, but not menacing. "Gokey, get out of here. Go find some ice, or something."

Adam turns back to Kris and waits till Danny's muttered cursing fades out, before speaking.

"We need to teach you to fight, Kris," Adam says, easily, a small smile on his face.

"Fuck you." Kris looks folded in on himself, curled up and protective, and he's practically bristling with anger still, and he watches Adam recoil, watches him close in on himself.

Adam takes a step back, letting go of Kris' arm, and leaning on the counter opposite. Kris doesn't want to leave, not at the risk of running into Danny again. He wants more, wants to fight, can feel that itch in his fingers, that tightness in his chest. He wants to lash out at anything in his way. Kris takes one look at Adam, thinks of everything he could say, and walks out.

-

He takes it out on the guitar, plays it until he can't feel his fingers, till old callouses are new blistered and till his voice is hoarse. He figures he's got time to do it, since there's nothing but home in the next week.

Home.

He's having trouble keeping Conway in his head, picturing Katy and his apartment, with the light wood cabinets that she keeps threatening to paint, the one light in the hallway that flickers when you turn on the vacuum.

He turns his phone back on, and he's got three missed calls and two texts, but it's too late to call Katy now, and besides. Then he'd have to explain himself.

He rubs his face in his hands and then stands up, leaning the guitar on the couch and heading back upstairs to his room, wondering if Adam's still awake. The itch in his fingers is gone, the need to fight, to make something hurt is gone. Instead, he's bone tired.

Kris opens the door to the room and Adam's reading, his eyes still made up, but faded, like he'd tried to wash it off, but had given up halfway through. He looks up when Kris walks in, and smiles, setting down the book and sitting up, crossing his legs.

Kris gives a small smile at the black painted toenails peeking out from under the cuffs of Adam's pajama pants and then he meets Adam's eyes, and his smile gets tired, a little lopsided, a little too sad to be happy.

"Feeling better?" Adam ventures, and Kris shrugs, sitting on his own bed and toeing off his sneakers. He drags his toes through the carpet and then sighs.

"It's just shitty," He says, finally. Adam nods, and Kris looks away, uncomfortable in silence.

-

He never apologizes to Danny, but they all seem to agree to forget what happened, and Danny's careful around him the first few days, but only in the way you're careful around someone who might have just lost someone or been given the worst news of their life.

Kris spends hours with his guitar, playing till he breaks strings.

When Danny goes home, Kris finds Adam in the movie room, curled up under a blanket watching television. The house is huge with only the two of them in it, and Kris sits on the end of the couch, and Adam mutes the television and it's way too quiet.

"I feel like he wrecked it, is all," Kris says, finally. Adam sits up, and faces Kris, the blanket pulled over one of his shoulders, his face sleep heavy, his hair mussed and off. It's a good look for Adam, Kris thinks.

"Ruined what?" Adam asks, when Kris doesn't elaborate.

"Ruined this. You, me. Our thing."

Adam raises an eyebrow, and Kris knows he has to clarify.

"We were just. We were friends, and it shouldn't have been. I don't want to feel this angry, Adam. I don't know why I feel so goddamn angry."

Kris' voice cracks and Adam pulls him in, reaches forward and tugs him in, hugs him close and waits till Kris speaks up, till he pushes at Adam's shoulders, breaking the hug.

"You're my friend, forever, right?" Kris says, and Adam grins, wryly.

"You think just because you can't throw a punch and because you swore at me, we're through?" Adam touches Kris' jaw, and the smile gets soft, and Kris feels something in his chest get a little looser. "We're always gonna be friends, Kris. I'm not going anywhere."

-

He loses the second fight.

The day Katy leaves, Kris punches a hole through the wall.

Kris stands in the living room of their apartment and watches his marriage fall apart, and Katy walks out the door without slamming it shut.

Kris does that. He slams the door, then opens it and then slams it again, before slumping against it, head pressed into his hands while he cries.

He can't figure out where he went wrong, this time.

He leaves Conway because nothing is home there anymore. His apartment is still theirs, and his friends are all theirs and everything is still her.

Fifty thousand some people, and they might as well be all alone in the whole place.

-

Chicago suits him. It's a turnaround city from Conway, windy and it rains and there's enough going on to keep him pretty much anonymous and the music scene is enough to keep him occupied, even if he's not really in it.

He gets recognized once or twice, signs the autographs and then moves on, forgetting about it, except for the spark of something. Something.

The third time he gets into a fight he's in a Chicago alley, he's drunk and he lands three punches before getting his ass handed to him.

It's in the papers, and Adam shows up three days later.

"Your mom called."

Kris lets him in.

-

The fourth time he gets into a fight, he wins.

Adam stumbles back, touching his lip and pulling his fingers back red with blood. His eyes are wide, and he's breathing hard, his whole body in shock.

"Kris, this isn't-" Adam starts, but Kris gets him again, and Adam doubles over this time, groaning. Kris' knee connects with his stomach and Adam falls to his knees, looking up at Kris in disbelief.

"Fuck you."

"Jesus Christ, Kris," Adam says, and Kris stops, arms pulled back for another punch, hand clutched in Adam's shirt collar. "I'm not Danny. I'm not Katy. I'm not whatever the fuck you're mad at. I'm not your punching bag, I'm your friend."

Kris doesn't want to hear it. He walks away again.

-

The last fight isn't a fight at all.

It's a homecoming.

Kris knocks on Adam's door, and Adam answers, holding an icepack to a bruised lip.

"You're lucky I love you," he says, and he turns around, leaving the door open for Kris to follow.

Kris grabs his arm and pulls him in, kissing him firmly, on his toes to reach Adam.

"Oh," Adam says, and Kris watches the emotion flood back in, the surprise and happiness and the realization.

"I'm a jackass," Kris says, "But at least now I'm a jackass who gets why they wanted to punch you."

Adam laughs and Kris kisses him again, learns the way Adam's laugh feels against his lips and falls in love.


End file.
